


Look [ART]

by veryvincible



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Art, Basically Tony got #sliced, Blood, Body Horror, Dreamvision (sort of), Gore (sort of), M/M, body modification (sort of), happy holidays :), idk how to tag this but there is blood certainly, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:52:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryvincible/pseuds/veryvincible
Summary: Tony's trapped in his own personal hell.Steve's not coming to save him.-Art with some accompanying text. :)
Relationships: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers (implied)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26
Collections: Stony's Sad Secret Santa





	Look [ART]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cathalinaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart/gifts).



> Happy, happy holidays!!!  
> I tried to gear things a little bit toward a potential post-CW AU. I did keep it vague enough that you could set it just about anywhere you desired and get a similar effect, though.
> 
> I hope this satisfies your desire for Tony's evil exes, manipulation, body modification/horror, and conflict between these fellas. I also sincerely hope you enjoy this holiday season. I love sitting in on your podfic editing and you're always a pleasure to see around the Stony server! <3 <3 <3

Tiberius Stone, the man Tony once trusted so deeply, rested his hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony flinched away; though he was well aware of the fact that the nightmare he lived was little more than that— a nightmare— he still found himself nervous to stress his limbs too much. If he was pushed too hard, he feared he might fall completely apart.

He found himself paralyzed as the fingers on his shoulder squeezed, a once-comforting gesture turned sour with the threat of danger. The world around them went dark with the exception of the chair’s lights. Though the ominous layer of red mirroring the blood dripping down his form was less than pleasing, it served as respite (used as loosely as the word could possibly be used) from the terrors that lay past the shadows.

“Look at that,” Ty said lowly in Tony’s ear, close enough that wisps of his hair tickled the side of Tony’s neck. “Where on earth could you go now, my love?”

Where indeed. There was nothing, and though Tony loathed to admit it, the willpower that served him so well the last time he’d had an encounter with Tiberius had waned with time.

“Who’ll save you, do you think?” Ty asked.

“The Avengers,” Tony answered, forcing a false sense of certainty into his voice. He couldn’t save himself, no— not this time— but he could make himself more of a problem than Ty wanted him to be, couldn’t he? Or was that exactly what Tiberius wanted— the thrill of winning again?

“The Avengers,” Ty repeated. “No, not anymore. Right? Him. That’s what you’d like to say. Him.”

Another light was lit from the distance. Though Tony’s eyes were blurred with pained tears, he could recognize the colors illuminated before him. Steve sat in an identical chair (a dull, lifeless bastardization of him, at the very least), staring blankly back at him. His head was up high despite the usual confidence in his expression, neck strapped tightly to the head of the chair in an uncomfortable-looking metal collar. His arms and legs were strapped down as well, immobilizing him.

For a moment, Tony could have convinced himself that Steve was really there. But for that to be the case, Tiberius would have had to get a hold of him. And for Tiberius to get a hold of him, he would have had to enter Dreamvision willingly. He would have had to step onto Ty’s turf— the same mistake Tony made.

And what the fuck would he do that for?

As if plugged into his mind (he was— quite literally, he was, and Tony couldn’t let himself forget that), Tiberius asked:

“What’s he going to do for you, Tony?” Ty scoffed, and Steve’s chair seamlessly slid closer. “Fucking look at him.”

Tony met not-quite-Steve’s eyes, brows furrowing as he blinked hard to get a better look. Not-quite-Steve stared straight back at him, and somehow, his empty stare felt less neglectful than Tony thought it might.

_Nothing_ , he wanted to answer, and he thought he’d be right for it. _Nothing_.


End file.
